


Nothing Personal

by StarshipDancer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, More tags to be added, Rating May Change, Romance, Slight Canon Divergence, basically most things stay the same, first person POV, i follow the books more than the movies honestly, it's like a mix of both, original characters based on pottermore accounts, people die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6727969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarshipDancer/pseuds/StarshipDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... It's just good pranking! Crimson grew up pranking with Fred and George, never suspecting that their fun would be cut short the night they were Sorted at Hogwarts. Bonds once so strong were cleaved by the boundaries separating their two Houses until nothing but animosity exists between them.It only took six years for everything to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Repost of my fic from FF.net. Crimson Rehfate is a character of my own creation based on my original Pottermore account and username (CrimsonFeather17317). Holly Ice is the character created by my best friend, also based on her account. For the most part, I'll be sticking with canon (book, mostly, maybe some details from the movie) and don't, as of right now, plan on making very many changes to what already exists. I tried to keep the characters true to their personalities. Thank you for reading! I really do hope you enjoy.

           Growing up, I always dreamed of going to Hogwarts, being sorted into Gryffindor, and pranking my way through school with my best friends. My father worked at the Ministry of Magic with Arthur Weasley (though you might call my father's job as Wizengamot a little bit more respectable than Mr. Weasley's), so I spent many of my days at the Burrow. Freddie and Georgie were my age, and we were immediate best friends the moment we met. They taught me how to properly prank without getting caught; I taught them how to mix ingredients to have just the perfect amount of combustion. Back then, we never imagined we would ever be separated. The three if us would laugh and prank and plan all of the mischief we would cause once we joined Bill and Charlie Weasley at Hogwarts.

           We would rule the school, be unstoppable! What a joke that had been. That first night would change our entire experience at Hogwarts… for the better and for the worst.

           "Remember, Crim, it doesn't matter what House you're sorted into." My father knelt in front of me, hands on my shoulders, smile forced and nervous. He said it didn't matter, but I knew he really wanted me to be sorted into Gryffindor. Honestly, I wanted to be sorted into Gryffindor, just like the rest of my family, just like Fred and George would certainly be. Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad, either, and I wouldn’t complain about being a Hufflepuff (though my father might have).

           "Can I go now, Daddy?" I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes searching for the familiar, ginger-haired Weasley family. Platform 9 ¾ was bustling with students already in their robes and trolleys stacked to the tops with luggage, but I could just spot them in the crowds. Fred and George were trying to squirm away from their mother, who was planting them each with wet kisses upon their temples. One of them, I assumed George, glanced around for me, and I grinned at him.

           "Let her go, John," said my mother with a smile, her own blue eyes brimming with tears at the thought of my departure. "Now, Crim, make sure you write at least once a week—"

           "We expect a letter tonight," interrupted my father with a stern smile that didn't reach his brown eyes, "to let us know you made it into Gryffindor!"

           I kissed them each farewell before dashing off along the platform. People were beginning to board the train, and I wanted to make sure I didn't lose the twins in the throng of people. When I arrived, Mrs. Weasley gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek before George possessively pulled me away from her. He and Fred stuck me between them, and I couldn't be happier.

           I knew picking a favorite was really rude of me, but I always liked Georgie best. His humor wasn't as cruel and dangerous as Freddie's could be, and he was always so sweet and kind, particularly to me. Freddie was the reckless one who always got us into trouble. Not that I minded, of course; a little trouble never hurt anyone. There was never a dull moment with the two of them, and I always felt invincible when I was with them.

           We said our goodbye's to the family (twice to little Ginny, who wouldn't stop crying) before we climbed onto the sleek train that would take us to our home away from home. My stomach was filled with Cornish pixies, and I couldn't decide whether I was excited or ill just yet. We pushed our way through the hallways, Fred in the lead. He led us to an empty compartment, and George closed the door behind us, shutting away the loud excitement. The cozy interior settled my nerves some as I situated myself beside George, whose grin made me forget all about the pixies in my stomach. That was another thing about the twins: they always relieved my stress, even with just a shared glance.

           "This is going to be bloody fantastic!" Fred said freely with a grin. "I heard Charlie talking about the caretaker, some old bloke named Filch. I say we prank him first night! Show him who runs the school now!"

           "Sounds brilliant! What do you think, Georgie?" I glanced over at him, unsurprised to find him pulling out a deck of cards. Always, when Fred got ahead of himself with pranks and jokes, Georgie found some way to distract him.

           "I say we worry about pranking when we get to Hogwarts. How about some Exploding Snap to lighten things up?" he said with a grin. "A galleon goes to the winner!"

           "Where the bloody hell are you going to get a galleon?" Fred asked, raising an eyebrow as his twin dealt the cards.

           "Simple—from this girl!" George ruffled my messy curls, and I laughed, poking him in the ribs with my wand. I loved my wand: sycamore with phoenix feather core, 12 ½ inches. Already, I had no idea how I lived without it. The slim wand fit perfectly into my hand, almost as though it had been carved to go there. I dreaded the following summer when I wouldn't be permitted to use any magic outside of Hogwarts; in my eyes, that was a foul rule. How could we practice our spells if we weren't allowed to use magic?

           We had barely started the game when a scrawny girl tumbled into our compartment. She shoved up her glasses, her brown hair flopping against the rims as she brightly smiled at us. She plopped down beside Fred and stuck her tongue out at George, as though this entrance of hers was a normal occurrence. Puzzled, I glanced between them and wondered if the twins knew this clumsy girl. From their incredulous and curious expressions, I knew immediately that she was a stranger to them as well.

           "Well?" she said sheepishly, shrugging, and I noted a small fear beginning to brim in her eyes. "Aren't you going to deal me in?"

           "How 'bout tellin’ us who you are first, then we might think about it." Fred frowned a little, looking her over. She was already wearing her Hogwart's uniform, and her hair was tied on the side of her head with a purple bow. Seeing our attention on her, she nervously fiddled with a silver key dangling around her neck by a black ribbon.

           "I'm Holly Ice. I'm a first year, like you guys. Some people pushed me in here, so do you mind if I play with you?" She blinked her big, deep brown eyes at us, and my heart broke. She reminded me so much of a dog with those large eyes, a puppy eager for attention and affection. Letting her join in didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

           "Of course!" I caught the twin's gazes, but they didn't argue. In fact, once Holly had my stamp of approval, the two of them didn't appear to mind her addition to our trio at all. "That's Fred, and this is George. They're both Weasleys. I'm Crim Rehfate."

           She blinked her wide eyes in amazement, her head dashing back and forth between the twins as she tried to determine some difference. Next thing I knew, she stared firing off rapid questions, each more exciting to her than the prior. "Wow, you can tell them apart? Crim? Is that a nickname?"

           "No, it's short for Crimson," I explained with a level of patience I had learned from spending so much time with the twins. "I'm named after my eyes." Honestly, I was the only member of my family to be born with burgundy eyes. I didn't mind my name, no matter how strange it was. I always received nice compliments about how pretty and unusual my eye color was. George had been the one to shorten my name, and it stuck from that day on.

           Holly pointed to each of us, reciting our names with a nod of her head. "Crim… Fred… and George. I think I got it! Now, which one of you is which again?"

           We spent the remainder of the train ride to the school playing Exploding Snap (which Holly seemed to have a terrible amount of luck at) and discussing which Houses we were going to be sorted into. Holly didn't appear to mind which House the hat placed her in, and I learned from the conversation that her blood was as pure as ours. The pixies were back in my stomach again by the time the train screeched to a stop, and I couldn't see out the window.

           Shaking like a nervous kitten, I followed Freddie and Holly out of the train; George came up behind me and gave my hand a squeeze. I swallowed and held onto him as we followed the rest of the first years over to Hagrid. His great size surprised me, no matter how much we had heard about him from Bill and Charlie, and I stared up at the giant man with a mixture of wonder and horror. George rubbed his thumb along the back of my hand.

           "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" He beckoned us away from the rest of the students and toward a set of boats. I luckily secured a boat with the twins and Holly, and soon we drifted our way to the school, our boat following the one that Hagrid had to take up by himself. The moment Hogwarts came into view, all my nerves vanished.

           Freddie, Georgie, and I had spent sunny days and long, tiresome afternoons whispering about what Hogwarts might look like when we arrived, whether it would be dreary or filled with awe. It looked marvelous, even better than we could have dreamed. I couldn't wait to get inside, and the boats only seemed to slow down the more eager I grew. Even Fred and George were grinning with enthusiasm and muttering about all the possibilities.

           The castle was even bigger on the inside than on the outside. I barely had time to look around at the moving paintings or marvel at the fine decorations when we were met with a tall woman in emerald robes. She gave us all a severe look that silenced my entire group in mere seconds. "I am Professor McGonagal," she told us, and the natural tone of her voice told me that this was not a woman to be trifled with. "In a few moments, you will all be sorted into one of the four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Your House will serve as your family while you are here, and you will earn points through your achievements. Any rule breaking will result in loss of points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points will be awarded the House Cup. Now, if you would all please follow me…." Clearing her throat, she beckoned us forward through large doors that opened up into the Great Hall.

           "Look at the ceiling!" Holly gasped from beside me, tugging on my robes in excitement, while I stared around at the four tables and the older students watching us approach the long table at the end. I peered up at the magical ceiling, amazed at how real it appeared; if I hadn't known better, I would have sworn that there really was no ceiling, and we saw instead the night sky twinkling with stars. Smiling wildly, I turned my gaze on the row of Professors, the man in the center of the table automatically commanding my attention. Professor Albus Dumbledore watched us, smiling beneath his half-moon spectacles, as Professor McGonagall stood us in front of a tattered-looking, old hat sitting on a wooden stool.

           The Sorting Hat. I bit my lip anxiously. I knew all about the Sorting Hat. That wrinkled piece of cloth would select the best House for us and stick us there. I fidgeted as I tried to listen to Professor McGonagall talk, but words weren’t making sense anymore. The syllables were jumbled and strange; the only sound I could focus on with any clarity was the huff of my own breathing and the thunder of my own heart beating anxiously in my chest.

           The Hat sang a song of welcome, and I clapped along with everyone else, even though I didn't hear anything that had been said. Fear began to make my hands shake. I couldn't imagine what would happen to me if I ended up being sorted into Slytherin House. The thought terrified me, and I suddenly wondered if the pixies in my stomach were, in fact, dragons or werewolves instead. The ferocity with which my stomach ached increased every passing second.

           Holly's name was called first out of the four of us. She puffed out her chest, sweat trickling along her temple, and attempted a causal walk over to the hat. Halfway there, she tripped and balanced on one foot to stay standing. A row of snickers sounded around the Hall, and she scurried the rest of the way. The hat flopped over her eyes, thought for a moment, and decided. I crossed my fingers, waiting, hoping....

           " _HUFFLEPUFF_!"

           With a sigh of relief and a happy smile, she skipped over to the welcoming Hufflepuff table. The Hall quieted down, and Professor McGonagall continued with the list. I watched as student after student was sent to one of the four tables, listened to the swoon of applause as the Houses welcomed a new member to their midst. Sooner than I would have hoped, I heard her call my name.

           "Rehfate, Crimson!"

           George gave my hand one final squeeze, and Fred winked encouragingly. With a weak smile, I let go and walked shakily over to the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on top of my head, and the inner flap blocked out the rest of the Great Hall. I swallowed, listening, waiting, wishing.

           Seconds passed, then moments, then what certainly had to be minutes. Was there something wrong with me? Could the Hat not decide? I wanted to scoff at it that the word  _Gryffindor_  was not at all that difficult to call out; others had been sent into Gryffindor. Why was it deliberating with me?

           Then, finally—

           " _SLYTHERIN_!"

           No… that couldn't be right. That couldn't be right! Professor McGonagal removed the Sorting Hat from my head, and I numbly walked over to the Slytherin table, where a few of them greeted me with smirks and handshakes. I glanced behind me, trying to catch Fred or George's eye, but neither of them were looking at me. The two of them burned holes in the floor, an expression of disbelief on their faces. They were just as shocked as I was. Certainly, surely, I couldn't be a… a  _Slytherin_. It couldn't be true. It just… couldn't….

           How would I tell my parents this? I could only imagine my father's expression when he read the news. Would my mother cry? I certainly felt like crying, especially when I witnessed Fred and George both be sorted into Gryffindor. They walked off to a table that felt so far away, a table that I could never belong to. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I wanted to go over there with them!

           "Glad they weren't sent over here," muttered a Slytherin girl to my right. "Blood traitors, those Weasleys, the lot of them. Better stay away from them, Crim."

           Fred and George… blood traitors? It took a couple years for me to truly understand the meaning of that insult. I wasn't sure, even then, if it was true for them. By that time, it didn't matter. After that first night at Hogwarts, I didn't try to talk to them, even in the classes we had together. I listened to the sneers and the jokes made at their expense, pretended to laugh and scoff. The twins ignored me, save for the few pranks they had up their sleeve for me as payback for ditching them, but _they_ ditched _me_ , too.

           Slytherin and Gryffindor were enemies. Sworn enemies, and the boundaries set by the Houses ran deeper than blood. I dared not challenge the thick line that was drawn for fear of the consequences. If both Houses believed that they were, indeed, enemies, then it had to be true... right? It wasn't until my sixth year that anyone bothered to test those boundaries. By then, it was almost too late for us.

           It only took one toe out of line. That was it.


	2. The Triwizard Tournament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trizwizard Cup is announced, and Crim debates putting her own name in the goblet. Somebody else doesn't like that idea very much.

           Time at Hogwarts passed by fast, more so than even the sweet days of summer. Before I knew it, I only had two years left at Hogwarts. I would say that not much really changed, if you had asked me. I saved up all my galleons to get a Firebolt in order to make the Quidditch team my third year, and I'd been playing Keeper ever since. I learned that Potions was my favorite part of the week and that Professor Snape was just cruelly misunderstood.

           I also loathed Divination with a passion and dropped it after the first class; honestly, that was a course for idiots. I would rather listen to Professor Binns drawl for hours than have Trelawney stuff indistinct tea leaves under my nose and tell me I was going to die; Holly spent _days_ after that incident watching me to make sure I wasn’t about to fall over dead. She wouldn’t even let me use a _quill_ ; for some reason, she seemed to think that I might fatally stab myself under strange circumstances.

           Holly Ice somehow became my best friend. Even though she was a Hufflepuff, Holly was also a pureblood, and I didn't get any grief for hanging out with her. Slytherins didn't look at Hufflepuffs as being a big threat to them, and Holly was _anything_ but intimidating. Her skills at Potions were slim _at best_ , but her stunning abilities in Charms never ceased to amaze me. I worried about her in Transfiguration, though; every time Professor McGonagall asked her to change a rat into a goblet, Holly would turn as white as a sheet and laughed like a chipmunk for a good five minutes.

           Holly was not considered a  _blood traitor_  the way that Fred and George were, and I was glad for that. I didn't know who or what I might have become if not for her carefree presence in my life.

           My parents never did take it well that I was put in Slytherin. After the first week or so, I didn't have a problem with it, myself. Father liked to pretend he was having a nightmare that he would wake up from soon, and Mother just acted as though Slytherin was as perfect as Gryffindor, which I knew better. They both worried that the Slytherin House was teaching me how to become a Death Eater or something, and I thought that was complete rubbish. Didn’t they have any faith or trust in me to know right from wrong? Besides, not _all_ the students in the Slytherin House had a fancy for the Dark Arts. Certainly, however, there  _were_  those few, questionable students. I wondered every day if Draco Malfoy and his group of idiots were leaning toward the Dark Side, and I suspected that Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Marcus Flint, might be part mountain troll. I didn't like any of them, but I never let any of them know that. I kept to my silly Hufflepuff friend, my books, and my potions.

           I honestly only had one regret. Well… I would suppose that would be two regrets, and both of them had red hair and a questionable set of morals. Fred and George had long decided that pranking the enemy was astonishingly as amusing as pranking the caretaker, and I just happened to be what they considered the enemy. I couldn't count how many times I found strangely colored toffees in my bag or discover that my bottle of ink had been replaced with the kind that sprayed me every time I tried to use it. I got used to their pranks and learned how to avoid them. Eventually, they would get bored and move on.

           I missed the days when I would  _help_  them with those shenanigans instead of tormented by them. I didn’t just miss their pranking, either; I longed for their company. I could still remember the days we would spend outside the Burrow, playing our own version of Quidditch or discussing the next plot to get under Percy's skin, which was not at all a difficult task to accomplish. I missed the way Freddie would always stick up for me, stepping in when I needed help, and the way Georgie would stand beside me, his fingers searching for mine.

           Still, the Weasleys were blood traitors, the lot of them. Bad news. I wouldn’t get ahead in life hanging out with them. If I tried to be friends with them, my House would shun me, and I knew what happened to Slytherins who were shunned by the House. That wasn't something I wanted to subject myself to. That is, if I wanted to live out the rest of my Hogwarts days in peace.

           Thankfully, something much more interesting than me caught the attention of my fellow Slytherins and the Weasley twins on our first night back at Hogwarts. Rather, it had the entire school's attention: The Triwizard Tournament. More than two hundred years had passed since the tournament was last held, so naturally the school buzzed with more excitement than a Cheering Charm could cause. We learned that students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would be staying with us at Hogwarts, the host school, to compete for the Triwizard Cup, and the tension was already mounting with each second that we sat in the Great Hall together.

           From our first night until Halloween, students over the age of seventeen were allowed to enter their name into the Goblet of Fire. That was the only condition that Dumbledore had set. Students had to be seventeen or older in order to compete, and that upset more than a number of people. Dumbledore himself drew an Age Line around the Goblet, and it swam menacingly through the air, beckoning younger students to try and enter. Some did try, too, and they each tottered off to the Hospital Wing with a fully grown beard that might have rivalled Dumbledore's.

           As the days waned closer to the end of October, more and more of us took to sitting in the Great Hall to see who would enter for a chance to be Champion. All of the Durmstrang students, each of them over the required age, entered their names, including Viktor Krum, a surly and quiet student that we all knew as Seeker for the Bulgarian Quidditch Team. A group of girls stalked him about the school as he walked to and fro, following him even during his workouts. Personally, I failed to see the appeal of him; sure, he was handsome and well built, but his brain left something to be desired. Many of the Beauxbatons girls entered as well, save for one or two younger students who had also been allowed to visit. They were a sight, those girls from Beauxbatons. Some of them I expected were part veela; how else would they have such beauty and enchanting powers?

           "Who do you think will be chosen to represent Hogwarts?" Holly excitedly chewed on her lower lip as we sat in the Great Hall. She hadn't changed much since we started at Hogwarts: hair still pinned to the side, now with a Hufflepuff bow; bangs tapering and messy; glasses dangling; and the silver key around her neck centered with a peridot, which I learned was the key to her diary. I didn't know what she wrote in there; the first time I asked, she rewarded me with a quill to the face. Just now, she was leaning forward in her seat, staring at the Goblet as though expecting it to move abruptly.

           "I don't know. Why don't you go ask the goblet?" I flipped the page of my Potions book and began to study the Draught of Living Death. Professor Snape hinted to me that studying the brewing instructions might be beneficial for the next class, and I always took his hints rather seriously. I was Professor Snape's favorite, which he was never shy about portraying to the rest of the class. He gave me that rare smile of his that wasn't filled to the brim with scorn, and he dropped hints from time to time of what I should study for class or exams, although I often times had already examined the material he mentioned to me. My potions were always correct, perfectly shining examples that belonged on display, while Holly’s usually smelled of curdled milk and turned entirely the wrong color.

           She tore her eyes away from the Goblet for a moment to frown at me. "Why aren't you excited about the Triwizard Tournament, Crim? If I didn't know better, I would say that you want the entire thing to go away," Holly accused indignantly, tossing me a rather scathing look.

           "I don't have anything against it, honestly," I murmured thoughtfully, focusing on a line of directon.  _Crush the snake fangs and Valerian roots and add them to your potion_. "I just wish Quidditch hadn't been cancelled this year."

           "Quidditch… yeah…." Holly deflated a little, thinking. She was a Chaser on the Hufflepuff team herself, and her excitement for the tournament had drowned out the depression brought on by the lack of Quidditch, which she just now begun to mourn. I myself hated that the pleasant release which flying on my Firebolt gave me during a math would be absent for a year. I returned to reading my book, leaving Holly to her morbid thoughts. Holly's depression didn't last long, however, for Cedric Diggory, another Hufflepuff and fellow Quidditch player, entered the room then, and every eye turned on him. Even I looked up, a feeling of excitement welling in my breast.

           "Crim! Crim! Look! He's going to enter!" Holly was in love with Ced, which she told me every day, and I couldn't blame her. He was in our year, and he was as handsome as could be. His fine, chiseled countenance and strong body attracted even some Slytherins to him. I, on the other hand, couldn't find an attractive thing about him. I knew Ced growing up, since our father's worked together, and I somehow couldn't find it in me to look at him as more than a friend. Still, I grinned widely at him as he pulled out a piece of paper which was undoubtedly adorned with his name.

           "Good luck, Ced!" I shouted into the cheers when he dropped his name into the Goblet, and Holly turned to me with a mortified countenance at my audacity to even speak in his general direction.

           He turned to us at hearing my exclamation and ventured through the throng of people to our spot beside the Cup. "Thanks, Crim," he said with one of his dazzling smiles.

           Beside me, Holly nearly fainted, her cheeks violently changing from a brilliant shade of red to a sickly white. She recovered, though, in time to add, "I'm sure you'll get chosen, Cedric!"

           He paused, glancing at her, and thought for a moment. Then, with a smile, he said, "Holly… right? We’re on the Quidditch team together." I thought she might die on the spot.

           I ignored the rest of their conversation, returning my eyes to the Potions book. Although the instructions looked easy, I could tell where I might run into trouble. The directions said to  _cut_  the sopophorous bean, but wouldn't  _crushing_  work better to get through the hard shell of the bean...? I would have to ask Professor Snape about that. I was just about to turn the page when a roar of laughter erupted into the room. Fred and George ran in, carrying what I assumed to be an aging potion. I almost laughed myself; I had never known them to be dense. Certainly they didn't think an  _aging potion_  would work? That, in itself, was a fool's idea. A clever Gryffindor that I knew to be Hermione Granger told them that, as well, but they only laughed in her face and scoffed at her warning. Eagerly, I closed my book to watch this unfold, and I wondered if they even brewed the potion correctly. After all, their marks in Potions were not what one might call acceptable.

           The twins drank the potion while everyone in the room cheered them on. Holly whistled enthusiastically, grinning, and I tried to control my amusement. They stepped over the line, paper in their hands, and nothing happened. They cheered themselves on along with the rest of the room and did a victory lap around the Goblet. I watched, waiting. Surely something had to happen; something had to stop them from entering. I felt an odd surge of panic that chilled me to the bone.

           No! It can't have worked! What if one of them gets picked to represent Hogwarts? People  _die_  in this tournament! That's why it took so long for the Ministry to approve it again. What if he dies? What if—

           They tossed their names in the Goblet together, grinning wildly. A moment passed filled with applause where nothing changed within the Cup. Then, a feral fire exploded from the top, illuminating the entire room. Relief bubbled in my stomach when the Goblet spit their names back out, slamming them straight in the chest. When they sat up, they both had grey hair and fully grown beards, which they felt and tugged at to no avail. I laughed along with the rest of the room as they began to fight, shoving each other and laughing as they tried to get a good grip on each other.

           During the commotion, I glanced at the Goblet, curious. What tasks would the Champions have to face?  _Would_  they get hurt? Would they  _die_? I wondered what the odds were of getting chosen. Did the Goblet put your name through a test or something? Was it random? Did only the worthy get chosen to represent their school? I wanted to know.

           My birthday had only been a few days ago, on October twenty-fourth. Where was the harm in putting my name in? Certainly I wasn't strong enough or smart enough to be chosen by the Goblet. I might as well have a go at it. Pursing my lips, I wrote my name down on a piece of paper and stuffed it into my pocket, unaware of the brown eyes that were watching me.

           I wouldn't do it now. No, not now. Not while everyone is watching. Not while  _they're_  watching and give them the chance to tease me. I would wait until tonight, after dinner and after class, when everyone was in their common rooms.

           I approached the Goblet, the sole person in the room now. Behind me, I left the door ajar so that I could slink out just as easily as I had entered. I pulled out the piece of parchment, glancing at my name. What would I do I was chosen? If Professor Dumbledore called my name at the Halloween Feast tomorrow, how would I respond? Would I be happy? Or afraid? I knew the Slytherins would be proud and pleased that one of their own was the Champion chosen to represent Hogwarts. Holly would be afraid for me; I could already imagine her terrified expression as the Hall erupted into cheers....

           "You're not really putting your name in there… are you?"

           I gasped, turning around to face the twin as he walked up behind me. How long had he been there? I cursed myself for not shutting the door behind me; I had been too worried about getting caught that I left myself vulnerable, and now George Weasley was staring down at me with curiosity and some other emotion that I didn't quite recognize. Crossing my arms, I raised my chin and an eyebrow.

           "I don't see that as any of your business, Weasley. Where's your beard? And your other half?" I glanced behind him for Fred but didn't spot the other part of the duo. I never knew one to be without the other; was Fred off courting a girl? Or could George not sleep?

           George stared at me, frowning, and continued as though I hadn't spoken. I had the odd urge to slap him, which I restrained for my own sake. I may have been good in potions, but the twins were particularly skilled in hexes. "You aren't cut out for the Triwizard Tournament, Rehfate. Don't put your name in there."

           " If I'm not cut out for it, what does it matter whether I put my name in or not? The Goblet won't choose me." My voice faltered a little, and I couldn't believe my ears. Why did George even care? We hadn't spoken a friendly conversation since before the sorting ceremony our first year. I didn't  _want_  him to care; he had no right…!

           "Don't put your name in the Goblet!" George repeated tightly, his lips forming a thin line. "You don't know, Crim, that it won't pick you. If it does, you could wind up seriously injured. The Triwizard Tournament isn't some other class that you want to challenge just to prove you can succeed. It's dangerous!" Who was he to lecture me about danger? Only hours ago, he and his brother were making the very same attempt!

           "Don't be a git, Weasley." I stepped over the age line and raised the piece of paper toward the magnificent Goblet. The blue flames twinkled seductively, urging my hand on. Before I could drop it in, George snatched the parchment away from me and ripped it to pieces. I gaped at him, something new bubbling in my stomach: anger. It hadn't known that I could be so furious with George, let alone anyone, for that matter. I felt my fingers instinctively twitch for my wand, and I fought against the impulse.

           "That was completely uncalled for!"

           "Bloody hell, Crim, I don't remember you being this stupid!" George spat back at me, eyes narrowed.

           "Oh, and the same goes for you! Did you and your brother honestly believe that something as pathetic as an Aging Potion would fool Dumbledore's Age Line? Honestly, I doubt you even brewed the potion correctly." Rage flickered in his eyes, and I knew I had hit the mark I was aiming for. I crossed my arms, glaring, and continued, "I don't see where it's any of your business whether I get myself injured or not!"

           "Nothing personal," said George tightly before he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

           After a moment of staring at his back, I gripped my wand within my pocket, the sycamore and phoenix core aching for use, and imagined what it would be like to curse him right then. I decided against it and chose a more logical approach. "I could always just write it on a different sheet of paper, Weasley!"

           George glanced back at me momentarily, his lips curling knowingly. "Yeah, but you won't. Night, Crim." With a smirk, he vanished through the door, leaving me annoyed beyond belief and completely confused. What the bloody hell was that all about? George and Fred were my enemies, right? They’d spent the past few years making my life a living hell. I didn't understand why George didn't jump at the chance to get rid of me. As a matter of fact, I didn't recall  _them_  asking for my permission to brew an Aging Potion and try to fool the Goblet into entering them.

           Pursing my lips, I grabbed my bag and sulked toward the dungeons. Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow, I would enter my name in that Goblet with George Weasley watching. I couldn't wait to see his face; the thought made me grin, my fingers curling around my shoulder bag's strap. That would put those Weasley twins in their place. For all I knew, they were trying to stop any Slytherin from entering the Tournament. I had to be cautious; the twins couldn't be trusted!

           So… what were the pixies doing back in my stomach?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't as bad as the last; I can already see where I did some massive editing a few years back. I really love writing Holly. She's my favorite. Too Precious for this world.


	3. The Champions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts finds out who the Triwizard Champions are, and an unlikely duo comes to Crim's defense when she needs it.

           By the time the next morning came around, I had lost all motivation to put my name into the Goblet. Blasted George! His words kept sticking in the back of my head, nagging at me until I decided against entering. After all, who wants fame and glory? Harry Potter has all of that nonsense, but he doesn't seem very happy about it.

           Besides, if I was chosen to represent Hogwarts in the Tournament, I wouldn't have any time to focus on my studies. I couldn't fathom letting Professor Snape down, not when he had Holly and the twins to deal with in his class. I owed it to him to keep my mind sharp and my attentions focused on what mattered instead of some silly tournament.

           I walked into the Great Hall, my eyes skimming for Holly. I assumed she would still be staking out the Goblet of Fire, and she was. I adored how predicable my best friend could be sometimes; it made keeping track of her simple. Something else caught my eye, though, and I was striding across the room the moment I noticed.

           This time, she wasn't alone.

           "Go on, have a taste. We promise they won't do any harm, Ice." Fred's hand was extended, and a violent purple toffee sat in his palm. His grin was enthusiastic, his glittering eyes persuasive.

           "And if anything does happen, we know what to do," George agreed amicably with a nod.

           "It sure looks safe… and it  _is_ _a_  rather lovely purple…." Holly bit her lip, her eyes flickering back and forth between the Goblet and the toffee. She couldn't seem to decide which deserved her attention more. The Goblet wasn't doing anything, and that toffee was oh so tantalizing. Finally, fidgeting with her key, she blinked up at Fred and George. "You're _sure_ it won't hurt?"

           "We promise, Ice. Come on, would we lie to you?" Fred grinned at her, and she shook her head confidently, reaching for the toffee. The poor girl, falling for their tricks! I couldn't let this go on. Dimly, I recalled the trouble we caused with the sweets we used to cook up as children, and a slight panic gave my feet the power to walk faster.

           "Wait a moment, Holly." I crossed the Hall and stopped in front of her, separating her from the temptation. Fred and George gave me wary glances, and Fred tried to hastily shove away the toffee. Before he could stash it away in his pocket, I snatched the toffee from him, frowning, and inspected it. The purple-wrapped sweet did look harmless, but I knew better.  _Harmless_  was not in their dictionary. "Just what is this, if I may ask? Considering you're trying to trick my best friend into eating it."

           George shifted at the word  _trick_ , and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "It's called a Ton Tongue Toffee." He dropped his voice as he explained what the effects of it were, and I gaped at him, horrified. "We tried it on a muggle this summer, and it appeared to work—"

           "You were trying to get her to eat that! That's really cruel, you bastards!" I shoved the toffee back at Fred and narrowed my eyes into the most dangerous glare I could produce. "I _am_ a prefect, you know. I could confiscate that and have you put in detention for the ceremony tonight."

           "You wouldn't," challenged Fred, raising his chin. He seemed to think my threat was empty, but they crossed a line when they tried to involve my best friend in their nasty experiments. Fred's twin knew it too, and he tried to smooth things over.

           "Relax, Rehfate," said George, kicking at the floor with the toe of his shoe. While Fred met my gaze levelly, George stared at the Goblet, as though wishing it would do something to gain everyone's attention. The Goblet could have spit fire at our heads, yet I would have still kept my attention on him. "We've been testing them on ourselves, but—"

           " _Them_? You mean to say that there are more of these… these foul candies that you've made?" My eyes widened in disbelief at the implications. Leave it up to the Weasley boys to go the distance.

           "'Course there are!" Fred shook his head like I should have known this. He raised a hand to count as he and his brother began to count of names. "We have Ton Tongue Toffee—"

           "Nosebleed Nougat—"

           "And we're working on Puking Pastilles and—"

           I put up a hand to cease their chatter, and they both silenced. "I don't care. Work on this rubbish all you want—test them on  _yourselves_  all you want—but I will not have you giving them to other students! It's barbaric! If I hear any more about testing on others, Professor Snape will hear about this." Briskly, I turned away from them to raise an eyebrow at Holly. She immediately began to panic, as though she were about to be scolded by her mother. I relaxed a little, letting her release some of her steam.

           "It looked so pretty!" she said, twisting the key to her diary through her fingers anxiously. "I didn't know it would be so bad… Why would you try to give that to me?" She glared at the twins, tears welling in her eyes as she imagined what might have happened had she eaten the toffee. "That was a right foul trick! What did I ever do to you?" She was taking it far too personally, I realized, and I needed to get her out of there before she began to hex the twins.

           "Oh dear, now you've got her upset!" I narrowed my eyes, lips pursed, and tugged Holly to her feet. "Come on, let's go—"

           "To the library?"

           "To the loo?"

           "Shut up!" I hissed at the twins, who were back to grinning. George, who had looked guilty a moment ago, was back to normal, and I glowered at him. That  _must_ have been an act he was trying to get me to fall for!

           "I think you've got bigger problems to worry about," said George with a nod behind me.

           "Bigger and thicker at that!" Fred agreed, smirking.

           I spun around in time to spot Marcus Flint tormenting some girls from Beauxbatons. Oh, of _course_. Flint wasn't the brightest student in Hogwarts, and he was currently repeating his final year for the second time. His stupidity was matched by his arrogance, though, and he wasn't giving the poor girls the option to say no. With a groan, I let go of Holly and walked over to the ugly troll. Immediately recognizing their chance, the girls briskly slipped away, and Flint wistfully watched them go, his eyes trained on their backsides until they were out of his sight. I snapped my fingers in his crude face to get his attention, and he glared.

           "Flint,  _please_  stop trying to snog the Beauxbatons girls against their will. Harassing our foreign guests will only give the Slytherin House a bad name." I hated the members of my House who were like him. If Salazar Slytherin were alive to see the members of his elite House, he would be disgusted. Slytherin were supposed to take pride in being cunning, ambitious, and resourceful, _not_ repulsive and forceful.

           Flint stared at me for a moment before he put on a slimey smile. "How about I harass you instead then?" He grabbed my arm, dragging me closer to him, and I kicked at his leg. He grunted and held onto my wrist, attempting to twist it back. I fumbled for my wand, summoning the most gruesome curse I could think of to my mind.

           "Let go of me, you vile—!"

           "Oi! Instead, why don't you pick on someone your own size, Flint?"

           "Or how about the two of us, since together we make up your size?"

           "Mind you, we're talking size here."

           "Yeah, and not brains and good looks."

           Fred and George approached us, arms crossed. Their tones were light and casual, but I detected a hint of steel in their voices. Fred grinned darkly, nudging his way between us, and I backed away some to create space. Flint sized him up, eyes narrowing, but Fred didn't back down. He merely continued to wear that devilish grin that the twins were so known to possess and shook his head in disappointment.

           "Those Beauxbatons girls are way out of your league, mate. You've taken far too many of our bludgers to the face."

           "And the head," George added coldly, stopping to stand beside me. His expression, if possible, was hasher than his twin's. He glanced down at my wrist assessingly, before a smirk lifted his lips. "Courtesy of us, of course."

           Flint stared between the twins and thought twice (which must have been really difficult for him). He must have decided against arguing with them, though, for he stalked off down the hall, a group of Slytherins following him. I took a breath, frowning. They shouted threats and insults back at the twins, and Fred put a taunting hand up to his ear to hear better.

           "Curse him next time, Crim! Hex his pants off!" Holly chided, looping her arm around mine. She was grinning widely now that the troll was gone, and she appeared to be filled with courage.

           "Nobody wants to see that," I replied calmly, cringing at the notion of a pantless Flint. I patted her arm gently and smiled. "Don't worry. I'll get him back eventually." And get him back I would. I hadn't forgotten all that Fred and George had taught me growing up with them. If there was anything that I could promise to Marcus Flint, it was a decent prank.

           I glanced at the twins then, who were both watching me, and nodded in appreciation. "Thank you."

           Fred shrugged, grinning. "Don't mention it."

           "Really, don't. We have a reputation to uphold."

           "We just don't like to see a girl get picked on by such a worthless sod as him."

           "Nothing personal, Rehfate." Something about the look on George's face, however, told me the exact opposite. That was the second time I heard him say those words to me, and each time felt like a lie through clenched teeth. I had to wonder just who he was trying to convince with that phrase.

           Later that evening, Flint had to be rushed to the Hospital Wing due to a wicked nosebleed that wouldn't cease. I wondered with amusement and a rather large helping of satisfaction if the twins had something to do with it, but I didn't press the matter. If they wanted to get even with Flint, that was their business. I didn't honestly mind either way. I would still get even with Flint on my own time... a time which I hoped would be approaching soon.

           "Shame, though," I murmured to a snickering Holly as we sat down with the rest of Hogwarts to watch the champion ceremony. "Flint's going to miss all the fun." It was the truth, too. The entire school was chatting eagerly with an excitement I never knew could possess these walls. Each person whispered to another, casting expecting glances at the Goblet of Fire, which brightened the entire Great Hall with its powerful glow. We took a seat near the front, and I spotted Cedric nearby. He looked a little nervous, but I also saw longing in his eyes.

           All of Hogwarts watched in anticipation as the Goblet of Fire spat out the names of the Triwizard Champions one by one in red fire. Dumbledore caught each piece of slightly charred parchment, turning it over to read the name. The first Champion was the one that would be representing Durmstranf, Viktor Krum. The room erupted into a loud cheer, with myself included. All of the Durmstrang students had entered, but Krum was the obvious choice and fan favorite. His group of female followers cheered and giggled loudly as he strode from his seat back to the room behind the Great Hall.

           Next, the Goblet produced the name of the female Champion from Beauxbatons. Dumbledore caught the delicate piece of paper, announcing that Fleur Delacour was the chosen Champion. I recognized her as one of the girls Flint had been harassing in the hallway, and I smiled a little. She rose to her feet, her smile broad and beautiful, as she walked to Dumbledore and shook his hand. Every male eye strained to watch her arse as she disappeared as well into the room.

           Finally. The Hogwarts Champion. I eagerly held my breath as Holly clutched at my arm, chewing on her bottom lip. I tried to think in that moment who all had entered their name into the Goblet. I could remember Warrington, a Slytherin who definitely didn't deserve it, Angelina Johnson, a Gryffindor Chaser that their entire House was rooting for, Cedric... why couldn't I remember anymore? I held my breath, watching the Goblet's orange fire spit out the piece of paper before returning to blue. Dumbledore caught it, read it over, and smiled, his blue eyes twinking with the fire.

           "The Hogwarts Champion is... Cedric Diggory!"

           The school erupted into a roar of applause, but none were as loud as the Hufflepuffs. Proudly, I cheered as well, clapping until my hands stung and cheering until my throat was sore. I thought Holly might faint from her excitement as she screamed with joy, her eyes brimming with tears.

           Ced would be a marvelous champion! Certainly he would lead Hogwarts to victory. There wasn't a better student that I could imagine the Cup could have picked. He stood up, his smile as wide and broad as it could be, and he followed the path of the other two Champions.

           Just as Dumbledore was opening his mouth to speak again, something strange occurred. Suddenly, the blue flames turned bright orange again, and the Cup coughed out one more name. Dumbledore, completely bewildered and extremely alarmed, caught the paper in his hand, reading it over once, then again. The Hall silenced automatically as Dumbledore, face paled by the blue flame burning from the Goblet, called out the name of the  _fourth_ champion. I had never heard his voice quiver the way it did then, and the shudder from his tone rippled throughout the Hall when we heard that name. In that moment, I thought my heart might explode out of my chest.

           "Harry Potter!"

           Minutes later, we all were ushering out of the Great Hall, murmuring to each other. I stayed quiet, thinking about what had just happened. Everywhere I looked, I heard people saying that Potter had entered his name himself. He must have learned some Dark Magic, they said. Probably something You Know Who would have used. Idiot boy! others claimed rudely, many of them Slytherin. How did he do it? How did he put his name into the Goblet of Fire? My feet began to slow, a thought suddenly prominent in my mind. Holly, still shaking from the night's events, paused to look at me.

           "It's curious," I murmured to Holly, my voice quiet to avoid confrontation from any other students. "How did Potter's name get into that Goblet?"

           " You accusing him of cheating?" Fred and George stepped in front of us, blocking our path and looking mutinous.  _They_  just had to pick up on my words, didn't they? I pursed my lips, resisting the urge to allow my temper to get the better of me.

           "Did I say that?" I raised an eyebrow, glancing at each of them, and they deflated a little. Now that I had their attention, I finished my thought. "What I mean is, something is definitely wrong with this situation. Potter might be in some serious danger."

           "You think someone put his name in on purpose?" Holly nervously played with the key around her neck again, her deep brown eyes as wide as saucers. "Why would anybody do that?"

           I shrugged, shaking my head a little. "I don't know, but I have the feeling we'll find out before the end of this Tournament." Until then, I had bigger things to be concerned about, and they both stood right in front of me. I crossed my arms and frowned. "Now, do the two of you mind moving? Or did you want something else?" I stared between the two of them, daring one of them to scoff or tease me. After today, I wasn't in the mood. I felt drained, mentally and physically, and all I really wanted to do was venture down into my comfortable dungeon common room and curl up with my Potions book.

           The twins glanced at each other, and Fred nodded to his brother. "Keep your eyes open," George muttered to me as they stepped around us, headed in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. I could hear them whispering something to each other, but that wasn't what crossed my mind just then.

           I bit my lip, turning to watch them, and called, "I heard Flint had a rather horrible nosebleed this afternoon."

           "Yeah? What of it?" Fred asked, smirking at me over his shoulder. I knew that look, knew without a doubt what had caused Flint's nosebleed. Those rotten Weasley twins had given him one of their—what were they called? Nosebleed Nougat?

           "Are you accusing us of testing our products on others after  _you_  specifically ordered us not to?" George was grinning as well, but I recognized the dangerous glint in his brown eyes. He wore the same stony expression he had on when they interfered with Flint earlier, and it was not a look I knew that well.

           My lips quirked, and I chose my words carefully. "Nothing personal," I said with another shrug. Then, turning on my heel, I followed Holly as far as the dungeons. She excitedly prattled about Cedric, giving me knowing glances every few seconds. I didn't know what was on her mind, and I was rather afraid to ask. My thoughts were on the brown-eyed boy watching us until we vanished from his sight. For a moment, I considered glancing back; gratefully, I kept my face forward because I might not have been able to bear his expression if I had.

           Nothing personal indeed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love Fred and George's interactions in this chapter. Seeing them gang up on anybody is just my favorite thing. As always, thank you for reading!


	4. Fire and Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crim gets stuck with one of her enemies in a shack during a storm, Holly forgets how to speak in the face of true love, and Cedric discovers what the first task is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I feel like this chapter is horrendous, but I don't have the energy to edit it any more.

           Tension built and built as November twenty-fourth loomed closer.  _POTTER STINKS_  badges glared from the breast pockets of almost every Hogwarts student, save for the Gryffindors. They shot nasty looks at my fellow Slytherins while we paraded around shoving them in the Gryffindors' faces. I, personally, refused to wear a badge. I was a prefect; even though I was rooting for Cedric, Potter was a Hogwarts student as well. If they were going to make  _POTTER STINKS_  badges, they might as well make ones for Fleur and Krum as well, in my opinion.

Holly wore a badge to support Cedric. He had always been unapproachable to her, but his newfound fame gave her even more of a reason to hide from him when they passed in the hallways. I made matters worse by stopping him whenever I could to wish him luck, ask him about his family, and question him on his strategy for the First Task. One day, it became too much for her to handle, and she called me on it in Potions class.

           "I can't believe you!" Holly hissed at me. I barely heard her; my focus was on brewing the _Draught of Living Death_. I was glad I had read up on it, like Professor Snape had suggested. If I hadn't, my potion, which was supposed to be lilac, might have been the same shade of brilliant orange as Holly's.

           "What did I do this time?" Focusing wasn't particularly easy with all the distractions in the room. Holly beside me kept talking, and the twins were across the room snickering and pranking their friend Lee Jordan, who was sitting in front of them. I rubbed sweat from my brow, reminding myself to concentrate. Professor Snape had often lectured about disruptions taking our mind away from the potion at hand. I considered Holly a challenge that I needed to overcome in Potions class, and she was doing a fairly decent job of sidetracking me.

           "Talking to Cedric like that!" Holly threw the sopophorous bean into her cauldron whole, and the color changed to a sickly blue. I glanced over, a little concerned about being so close to such a dangerous potion. Did she just add Valerian sprigs and mistletoe berries? I double checked the ingredients to make sure, curious if she used her Potions book as a pillow because she obviously made no attempt to read it. "It's completely absurd! He's  _Cedric Diggory._ You can't just talk to him like he's a normal person."

           "You know, one of these days, I'm going to let him know how strongly you fancy him. Perhaps he'll return your feelings." I glanced at her cauldron again, wary of what it might do to me if even a drop touched my skin. If worse came to worse, I had to make sure her potion and mine remained _entirely_ separate. "I'm fairly certain your potion should not be pale blue."

           "Yeah, I stopped paying attention after the second step…" Holly raised her hand, and I thought I saw Professor Snape openly retch.

           "Yes, Miss Ice?" he asked, slowly approaching our table. He sneered at her potion, lip curling up in disdain. "Do you know how to read, Miss Ice?"

           "I've tried, but I always have headaches afterward," she replied, also looking to her potion. "So I should write an essay on the proper way to brew the _Draught of Living Death_ , the common uses of the potion, and give examples? Will two full rolls of parchment be sufficient?"

           Professor Snape frowned a little. "On my desk by Monday." I could have been wrong, but I didn't think he liked it very much that Holly's potentially dangerous brewing was becoming more and more of a habit. He opened his mouth as though to continue with a well-deserved lecture, and I prepared to absorb as much of it as possible in the event he mentioned something important. Before he could, however, he was distracted from the sudden explosion from across the room. Lee Jordan's hair was smoking, and the twins were diving in and out of fits of laughter. They tried to keep a straight face for a moment before giving in to the comedy of the situation and releasing their snickers.

           "Weasleys!" Professor Snape crossed the room, equipped with a glare for each of them. They didn't bother trying to control their laughs in his presence; in fact, Professor Snape's appearance seemed to make the situation all the more comical to them. "Why is Mr. Jordan's hair on fire?" His voice was calm and collected, which meant they should be worried.

           "I dunno, Professor," said Fred.

           "Maybe he heated his cauldron too high?" George supplied with a shrug. "Of course, we didn't help."

           "Yeah, should've known better than to ask us the right temperature." _Nobody_ in their right mind would ask Fred and George for the date and time, let alone Potions instructions.

           Lee grinned over his shoulder at the twins, but his face fell when he realized Professor Snape was glaring coldly at him. He turned around in his seat, straightened, but I saw his shoulders shaking with silent chuckles.

           "Ten points each from Gryffindor, and ten points from Mr. Jordan as well for disrupting my class. If it happens again, I will have the three of you sample Miss Ice's potion, and who knows what that will do to you." I could have been wrong, but Professor Snape sounded overly delighted about the idea of feeding them Holly's concoction of a questionable nature.

           "Yeah, I wouldn't want to drink it if I were you. I'm not really quite sure what all went into this potion, now that I think about it… were mistletoe berries an ingredient this time?" She glanced at me for confirmation and smiled sheepishly while I solemnly shook my head. "Then again, you two did try to feel me that horrid toffee…."

           "Will I have to take points from Hufflepuff as well?" Professor Snape glanced at me before striding to the front of the classroom. "As usual, only one student managed to successfully brew a _Draught of Living Death_. Twenty points to Slytherin for Miss Rehfate's accomplishment today. If you all would please fill a phial with your potions and bring it to my desk, you may go."

           I ladled some of my clear potion into a phial and left Holly alone to find a way to soup hers out of her cauldron. As I approached the desk, I was keenly aware of the two pairs of identical eyes following me. I tried to ignore them, but they, of course, would not have that.

           "Good job today, Rehfate," muttered Fred when I walked past the twins. He jumped up to get in line behind me, and his twin folllowed suit.

           "Yeah, good job," George echoed. "Might as well give you points for picking your nose."

           "We all know you dig for bogies better than the rest of us."

           "Shut it," I hissed at them. I handed my crystal phial to Professor Snape, who nodded with approval. I thought I caught a glimpse of a smile, but that could easily have been a trick of the light. I quickly stepped around Fred and George, glad to avoid a conflict with them, and started for the table. When I returned to our desk to gather my books, I discovered Holly in the midst of a serious dilemma.

           "Professor? My potion is too thick to ladle into the phial," she said miserably, deciding that giving up now was her best bet.

           Professor Snape waved his wand, and the contents of her failed potion vanished before our eyes. "Very well, Miss Ice. You shall receive partial credit for succeeding in not blowing up my classroom. I advise you leave before I change my mind." I grabbed her arm and tugged her out of the classroom before she did discover some way of wrecking the room. Once I thought we were safe from destruction, I let her go, and she fell into a happy step beside me.

           "That was close!" she whispered to me as we climbed the steps out of the dungeon. Our next classes were separate, but we both followed the same path out to the grounds. Instantly, I noticed the lack of sun and pursed my lips. Care of Magical Creatures was already horrid enough without rain.

           "You really should try harder in Potions," I chided gently, casting a sorrowful glance at the darkening sky. The clouds were nearly black, and only faint glimpses of the sun covered the outside of the school.

           "I do try, Crim. Honest, I do. I just can't seem to get the hand of potion-making. I either heat the potion too much or add too many ingredients or stir the wrong way too many times…."

           "Or don't read the instructions properly?" Cedric caught up to us, trying not to laugh. He beamed one of his signature smiles at me as he fell into step beside us. "Nice job today, Crim. I think I missed a step on my potion. Maybe you should give us a lesson on pleasing Professor Snape?"

           Holly silenced immediately, and I knew she was trying to blend in with the scenery of the courtyard. This was one of the things she had been scolding me about. Smiling to myself, I pretended not to notice and said, "Oi, Ced! Have you prepared for the first task yet?"

           "Not quite," he admitted, shifting slightly and shaking his head. "It's a little hard to prepare for a task when you don't know what's coming. Thanks for supporting me, by the way." He smiled at Holly, who turned a soft shade of green. I was afraid at any time that she might vomit. "Good job bewitching your badge to stop changing. That's some skillful magic." He nodded to the badge that she proudly displayed on her breast pocket, which perpetually shone with the words  _SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY_.

           Her cheeks burned brightly, and she opened her mouth a couple times to respond, reminding me a little bit of a fish. Quickly, she looked away and began to fiddle with her key, as usual. "I-I, well… Ch-charms is my favorite class… and I don't believe in false campaigning. Those vile Slytherins made the badges change like that. No offense, Crim," she added anxiously, her eyes flashing to me. "You're not vile, obviously."

           "Thanks," I said with a shake of my head, and I knew she meant it.

           A roar of laughter erupted from across the courtyard. Curiously, Cedric beckoned us, and we followed him to the circle of students forming around Professor Moody. He kept muttering a long string of insults, glaring as he waved his arm up and down. A white ferret flailed wildly through the air, following the tip of Moody's wand. Crabbe and Goyle gaped like brainless sods (more so than usual), and that could only mean one thing. I looked around for the familiar greasy blond hair, and when I didn't spot it, I grinned like a maniac. My respect for Moody just shot straight up.

           "That's Malfoy!" I whispered to Holly and Cedric, whose mouths fell open in realization.

           "Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?" Less quiet, Holly began laughing and spreading the word; she turned to the nearest person and informed them, and the group behind her caught the news as well. Beside her, Cedric crossed his arms and chuckled quietly, his eyes glued to the scene of the ferret twisting and turning as it bounced up and down in humiliation.

           "That's enough!" Professor McGonagall rushed over to the group, having found out what was going on. She broke up the circle of us watching by returning Malfoy to his usual and greasy state. He scampered away with his clueless crones, shouting threats the whole time. McGonagall turned to Moody for scolding; I couldn't hear what was being said, but he certainly didn't seem to be taking her seriously. I laughed and looped my arm with Holly's, tugging her gently toward the grounds. Moody might have the liberty to disrespect McGonagall, but we did not possess the same freedom. If we were spotted hanging around, she might turn those thin eyes on us, and that was the last thing I wanted.

           "Now that I think about it, Malfoy does look rather like a ferret," Holly laughed breathlessly, her cheeks flushed from the excitement.

           "You have a point," agreed Ced as he stopped by the entrance to the greenhouses. Holly froze entirely, as though just now remembering he was with us. Her lips zipped shut so tightly, I barely believed she was the same Holly from only moments ago. "Come on, Holly. We'll be late for Herbology. See you later, Crim!"

           Holly stared at him as he walked into the greenhouse with their fellow Hufflepuffs, a strange sort of expression on her visage. "Can you believe it, Crim? He knows my name! He really does!" Giggling, she followed him, her ponytail bouncing with each step.

           Shaking my head, I continued along the path to Hagrid's hut. It was either now or never with Care of Magical Creatures. The subject wasn't particularly my favorite. Thunder rumbled overhead, and I cast a wary glance at the sky. I quietly prayed that the rain did cut my class with the Gryffindors short this afternoon. The less time I had to spend with the twins, the better. I was beginning to hate each second I spent in their vicinity. Before, they would leave me alone, pranking me only out of boredom or when our paths crossed. Now, though... now Fred and George made it their goal to get under my skin as much as possible, and I didn't understand what had honestly changed.

           Before I reached the hut, the rain started. I put up the hood on my cloak to keep away some of the rain from my eyes, my feet already soaked through to my socks and my shoes covered and caked with mud. The rest of my class crowded around the large outline of Hagrid, which I could barely make out through the thick fog drifting over from the Black Lake. I squinted, finding the light from his lantern to focus on. From what I could tell, he was using a grand umbrella that probably could have accomodated the whole class, and he had one hand cupped to his mouth to talk over the rain.

           "Today's class'll be cancelled," Hagrid bellowed above the downpour. "Get back t' the castle, the lot 'f ya! 'Fore the storm gets too bad!"

           I tightened my cloak as the class turned in unison and began to trudge back to the castle. The rain became thicker by the second, and I couldn't even make out the turrets of the school anymore. All I saw was the darkness and fog brought on by the storm. I began to shake, my footing unsteady as my body tensed for more thunder.

           "Blast!" My foot slipped, and I fell onto the messy ground. With a grumble, I tried to stand, but my shoes, unequipped for the mud, only glided against the drenched grass. I took a breath, ready to cry. Another loud snarl of thunder sounded directly above us, and I pursed my lips, tears already stinging my eyes. If there was one thing I didn't like, it was storms. Even when I was young, the thunder and lightning paralyzed me to the spot the way it did now.

           "No, go on!" A figure paused in front of me, and a hand appeared in my face, the fingers trembling from the cold and dripping with spots of rain. "You aren't too proud to take help from a blood traitor, are you, Rehfate?"

           I stared up at George. His voice was teasing and casual, but his brown eyes were serious. Without thinking, I accepted his hand, and he tugged me to my feet. I stumbled into him, clinging to his cold cloak, and he put an arm around me. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. I held onto him for dear life, soaked through to the skin by now. He took a breather, and I felt his eyes bearing down on me; I didn't look up to see what expression he wore. He rubbed my freezing knuckles with his hands; I thought I heard him sigh.

           "Hold on," he said, teeth clenched, and I listened, gripping his hand with all the strength my icy fingers possessed. He picked up his pace, dragging me with him as he raced toward the school. More thunder growled, and a crack of lightning shot across the sky. I cowered closer to him, forcing my quaking legs to move faster and faster. I tried to squint through the thick rain, but I saw no sign of the castle anywhere or any of the students from our class. Then, I spotted a faint, almost nonexistent glimmer in the distance. Hope bounded through my stomach, elating me.

           "Georgie, there!" I pointed to the faint glimmer of light, and he changed his course. I ran alongside him now, my strength renewed by the mere thought of shelter from the dangerous storm. As we got closer, I realized we had discovered the docks. He shoved the door open and ushered me in. While George struggled with the door against the wind, I conjured a flame in the center of the room. I felt the warmth from it almost immediately, and I suddenly realized just how bloody cold I was.

           Then, slowly, George turned to look at me, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as my heart beat in my chest. Something about his expression startled me, worrying me. He had never worn this emotion on his countenance before, and I didn't quite know what to make of it. He took a breath, finding his voice at last. "You... you called me Georgie. You haven't called me that since we were kids."

           I stared at him, unsure how to reply. I sat down and huddled close to the fire, my eyes on the orange flame. I had called him that without even realizing that I did, almost like the instincts I used in Potions class. I called him  _Georgie_  because that was his name to me. Any other name, even just George, didn't sound right. "Habit, I suppose."

           "Yeah, habit…." George didn't sound satisfied with that answer, but he thankfully didn't push the matter any further. He sat down beside me and watched the flickering flame dance in the center of the floor. I glanced at him, wishing he would say more, but I also focused on the fire when he remained quiet.

           We were both silent for a moment, disturbed only by the pounding of the rain against the building and windows. The wind howled, and my shoulders shook. I didn't know what to say to him. We hadn't been alone together in ages; what had we talked about back then? I couldn't even remember that. I found myself wondering what he was thinking when another shriek of lightning lit up the sky outside. I started, clutching my hands together, and George laughed quietly.

           "You never did like storms. Whenever you’d stay at the Burrow, I remember you would always climb into bed with me at night when you heard a storm coming," he mused, finally looking at me with the faint ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

           "Rub it in a bit more, why don't you?" I scoffed shakily, shrugging out of my wet cloak. If the storm continued at the rate it was, we would be there for some time, and the cloak wasn't making matters for me any better. I set it out to get warm by the flame and wrapped my arms around my legs tightly.

           "Sorry, couldn't resist. Here." George tossed his own cloak off and scooted closer to me. I stiffened when I felt his arms wrap around me, surprising myself with the intensity of the urge to just wrap my arms around him and bury myself in his safe arms. He glanced down at me, an eyebrow raised and a frown now possessing his lips.

           "Relax, would you? None of your fellow Slytherin are here to scold you for cozying up to a Weasley."

           "I—" My voice was drowned out by more thunder, and I cleaved to him anxiously, wrapping my arms around him as tightly as I could. With another chuckle, he tucked me up against his chest, and I heard the smile in his voice.

           "Wasn't so hard, was it, Rehfate?"

           My pumping heart began to slow incredibly, and I knew George had something to do with it. Even with the wicked storm rolling outside, I felt secure with him. Faintly, I became aware of how well-built he actually was now. When we were younger, he and Fred hadn't been so strong, and I struggled against the powerful yearning to reach my hand out and touch the muscles on his chest. All those years of hitting bludgers on the Quidditch field had done wonders for his body. Suddenly, a strange warmth filled the pit of my stomach that heated even my numb toes. All rational thought was leaving me; I was subject now to the waves of emotion that weakened my body and mind.

           "Georgie… why are you being so nice to me? I've been nothing but cruel to you all these years." I blinked up at him, not surprised to find him staring at the fire. I distinctly heard the patter of rain begin to slow, but the conversation at hand seemed so much more important than the ending storm. I wanted to know. I  _had_ to know. The answer was so necessary to me, as though my life hung in the balance, ready to crumble at his word.

           Then, he looked at me, and he was close enough for me to feel his breath on my cheeks. The heating sensation spread even further from my gut, filling my cheeks and fueling my heart. Painfully, he offered a shrug and a grimace. "Crim, you… you were the one who pushed me away."

           My heart missed a beat. His gaze wavered, flickering down, and he inched closer. His soft lips lightly grazed mine hesitantly, and I heard myself sigh. I couldn't breathe so well anymore, couldn't think straight. I didn't remember where we were or why we were even there. I just knew I bloody well wanted George Weasley to kiss me. For a few blissful seconds, that was all that mattered. I was his Crim, and he was my Georgie.

           Then, I remembered that I was not, in fact,  _his_  Crim. He bled red, and I bled green. This couldn't happen. I had to stop him somehow, but his gaze and scent intoxicated me beyond all capable thought. No… this couldn't....

           "Stop!" With the minimal strength I mustered, I shoved him away. George reeled in shock, taken aback by my sudden rejection. He tried to grab my arm, but I evaded him by jumping to my feet. Quickly, I put on my cloak, not bothering to see whether it was dry or not, and headed for the door. My heart beat louder than the storm once had, filling my head with hurt and memories. I had to get away from him. If I didn't, I might do something that we both would regret in the end.

           "Crim!" When I turned to face him, George glared at me from the floor, fury lining every part of his features. I didn't know he could wear such an angry expression. Tightly, I swallowed and fiddled with the clasp of my cloak. My hands shook, no longer from the cold but from something else deep within me that told every fiber of my being that walking away from him was wrong.

           "Nothing personal… right, Georgie?" I whispered, almost no volume to my voice at all.

           His lips tightened into a thin line, and I saw a storm in his eyes as wild as the one that had just concluded outside. Finally, he broke the eye contact and instead glared angrily at the floor. He wet his bottom lip, deflating exceptionally, and spoke in such a flat, injured tone, I wanted to turn around immediately and return to his side."… Right. Nothing personal."

           I couldn't stay any longer. If I spent more time in that room with him, my strength would give in, and there would be no turning back after that. So I bolted out of the building as fast as my legs could carry me. By now, the rain that painted my face was light, and I was grateful. My tears mixed with the drops of rain, and I almost convinced myself that my tears  _were_  raindrops, just falling naturally from the sky with no connection to George or the kiss that almost happened.

           I spent the rest of the night in the library, thinking. I hadn't even bothered to change out of my wet clothes, my soaked feet becoming sore and clammy in my saturated ankle boots. My heart had been hurting ever since George almost kissed me, and I couldn't quite concentrate on much more than the thumping in my temple. I kept repeating one question over and over again in my mind until those words were all I could see: Why had I stopped him? Was it fear? If so, fear of what? Certainly not of George. Did I fear what the outcome would be...? I couldn't think anymore. I stared at words in a book that had little meaning to me, willing those crude scribblings to make sense to no avail. I couldn't overcome the overwhelming feeling to just break into pieces and cry.

           That is, until Holly and Cedric approached me. Cedric was as white as one of the ghosts roaming Hogwarts, his grey eyes wide and terrified. Swallowing, he offered a frightened smile, and I sat up in my seat. Something was wrong, something more pressing than my recent encounter with George Weasley. I beckoned them both closer to have a seat, but they didn't move. Cedric seemed clued to the spot, a mixture of relief and absolute fear lining the smooth features of his visage.

           "Crim… I need your help," he said quietly. He cleared his throat, pushing his voice to obtain more volume. "I know what the first task is now. It's dragons."

            _Bloody hell_.

 


End file.
